Puppy Love
by AmazingApple
Summary: A new girl at Beacon Hills High School, Coach Finstock's daughter, befriends many of the Beacon Hills residents and unknowingly becomes caught in the supernatural and romantic problems that come with them. IsaacxOC
1. The Coach's Daughter

Penelope sat cross-legged in a chair in front of Coach Finstock's desk in his disorganized office, looking down at her hands and playing with a small, purple flower she held. There were plastic crates stacked sloppily everywhere, accompanied with overfilled filing cabinets and frames hung askew on the walls, mostly class pictures of past lackluster lacrosse teams.  
Coach Finstock was sifting through various sheets of paper that were part of Penelope's transcript from her previous highschool.  
She looked out the large window into the boys' locker room. It was empty at the moment.  
"I know you're a straight A student. That's not going to change now, is it?" he barked, though in a calm manner. Bobby Finstock was simply eccentric and loud by nature.  
Penelope looked up and raised an eyebrow at him with a little smirk.  
"Of course not," she assured him. "Why would it?"  
"I've been around enough teenagers to know that education is rarely their priority," he replied, with a look that suggested he felt quite enlightened on the topic.  
She scoffed and rolled her eyes.  
"Dad, you know I don't care about being popular," she scolded him. "_But_," she added, "it'd be unhealthy for me to be forced into anti-socialism before I even get a fighting chance, too. So could you please refrain from announcing to everyone that I'm your daughter?"  
Bobby Finstock leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at his daughter with a skeptical look.  
"_Dad_," she pleaded. "It's just that I'm already the new girl in Sophomore year, I don't want to be known as the daughter of a crazy dad who's also the crazy coach. No offense."  
Her father, the coach of the Beacon Hills High School Lacrosse team and Economics teacher, simply shrugged and said, "Eh, you're not wrong."  
"Everyone will know eventually, and that's fine. I just want a chance to settle in before that. And I have Mom's last name anyway, so people would never guess it."  
Penelope shared her father's big, dark eyes and dark hair, but got her curls and fair skin from her mother, as well as her last name.  
Her parents had gone through a divorce when she was very young and she had lived with her mother her whole life, visiting her father during the summers and throughout the year. She had decided to live with her father for her Sophomore year until graduation because her mother had recently remarried and was going on vacation with her new husband, so she would be fine without her daughter by her side. Penelope saw it as a good time for change, too, or at least change in location. She hadn't had any close friends in her old town, and she was fine with that staying the same.  
Penelope seemed to get her solitude from her father in that way.  
She was a pretty, kind girl who didn't have problems making friends if she wanted to, but she simply chose not to. She enjoyed the quiet that came with simplicity. That went for a boyfriend as well. She prided herself on staying separate from the petty, cliche highschool drama.  
"Fine," Coach Finstock barked. "Just behave, and don't get in trouble on your first day."  
"Oh, how ever will I manage that?" Penelope joked sarcastically, getting a smirk out of her father; she knew she was one of the only people who ever got to see that side of him. And they both knew she wasn't one for trouble, he was simply obligated to tell her that as her father.  
Just then, the sound of the locker room doors opening, along with the sound of many, loud teenage boys, flooded the room. It was the Lacrosse team dropping off their equipment for practice after school.  
"Okay, out with you now. It's time for first period," Bobby Finstock instructed, standing up from behind his desk.  
Penelope slung her messenger bag over her shoulder and stood from the chair to leave the office.  
It was the first day returning from winter break, and it was already warm weather in Beacon Hills, California, so she wore jean shorts, a Warped Tour t-shirt, simple black and white converse, and a plain black sweater. Her long, black hair fell down her back in loose curls.  
"Bye Dad," she said cheerfully, tucking the flower's stem behind her ear.  
"It's Coach Finstock in front of other students," he said sternly as he joined her.  
Penelope shook her head with an amused smile and saluted him as they stepped out of the office.  
They stood infront of the Lacrosse Team, all eyes on them. Penelope was a bit surprised, hoping she would have been able to sneak out without drawing any attention to herself. She realized now the boys were probably trained to give "Coach" their attention when he walked into the room if they wanted to avoid laps around the field. Standing next to him wasn't anyway to go unnoticed.  
She felt herself blush when someone wolf-whistled out from the group of teenage boys, causing them all to break out in laughter.  
"Hey!" Coach Finstock called out in his stern, booming voice, silencing the room. "I'd like you all to meet my daughter, Penelope."  
All the smirks and amusement left the guys' faces. They all knew they'd be paying for that little outburst at practice tonight.  
Penelope awkwardly looked out into the group, holding onto her bag strap tightly and trying to avoid eye-contact, before deciding to look at the ground.  
Apparently, one of them thought, since they're already in deep shit for hitting on the coach's daughter, they might as well make it worth it.  
"She obviously takes after her mom," a boy called out flirtatiously, earning a collective chuckle from the others. Penelope blushed deeper and turned to her father.  
"I'll see you at home," she said, just loud enough for him to hear. '_So much for not introducing me as your daughter_', her eyes said.  
She adjusted the strap on her shoulder and moved shyly through the crowd of boys, still looking at the ground and avoiding their stares as she walked to the locker room door.  
As she pushed the door open, she looked back for a moment and met the gaze of a tall, handsome boy with dark eyes and dark curly hair. He smirked at Penelope and she dropped her eyes, quickly turning and leaving the room.  
Penelope was anything but flattered as she briskly walked down the hallway to the main office.  
_'Teenage boys sure know how to make a girl feel special_,' she thought sarcastically. '_And in front of my father! They know more than anyone in this school how hot-headed he is. They obviously only cared about showing off in front of each other, as long as it's **only** at the expense of the new girl!'_ she thought bitterly. '_But whatever,' _she added with a sigh,_ 'boys will be boys.'_  
By the time she had crossed the school, no one paying her any attention as she melted into the flow of students, she had calmed down and was in a good mood again, ready for her first day at her new school. She briefly wondered how fast the news that she was Coach Finstock's daughter would travel around the school via the lovely lacrosse team, but she was brought out of her curiousity when the woman at the front desk spoke up.  
"Hello. How can I help you?" she said with a smile.  
She was a middle-aged woman with a short pixie cut and bright red lips, as well as a sharp pair of eyes to contradict her smile.  
Penelope looked up at the woman and said, "Oh. I'm just, um, I'm new and I came to pick up my schedule, and whatever else I'm supposed to have."  
The woman smiled again, though she didn't seem to hold any genuine emotion, and waved Penelope over.  
"Yes, I have all you need right here," the woman said, gesturing to a pile of papers. She handed them to Penelope one by one, naming off her schedule, a map of the school, forms she needed to fill out, and many other papers that she would probably just toss away afterwards.  
"Now, seeing as you've already missed the start of class, you should get going," Mrs. Argent told her.  
"Thank you," Penelope said politely. She had indeed already missed the beginning of class on her first day, and Mrs. Argent was an unsettling lady to be around, so Penelope was glad to leave the main office.  
Looking down at her schedule, she saw that she had Chemistry.

* * *

After a few minutes, Penelope came to face the door with the Chemestry classroom. She paused with her hand wrapped around the doorknob, stopping to listen to what she guessed was the teacher, Mr. Harris, lecturing the class.  
She took a deep breath and turned the doorknob, slowly opening the door and stepping in. Her eyes quickly swept over the room to see that every student, who sat in pairs at soapstone lab tables, were looking at her, silently welcoming and judging the new girl.  
Penelope averted her eyes from her staring peers to her new, bored looking teacher, Mr. Harris. After he didn't say anything, the class drowning in silence, Penelope realized he was wasn't going to engage in friendly greetings and was waiting for her to say something.  
She cleared her throat and said in a soft, kind voice, choosing to meet the teacher's eyes instead of her classmates, "Hello. Um, I'm new here. I'm, uh, Penelope."  
She handed over the slip Mrs. Argent had given her to excuse her from missing the start of class to Mr. Harris and stood awkwardly in front of everyone, her arms wrapped tightly around her books and binders.  
"Penelope Porter," Mr. Harris said, managing to sound judgmental.  
She knew he must be one of those adults who could make any conversation feel like a scolding, as if you had done something wrong. She certainly felt nervous enough to fit the part.  
"With your mother's surname," he continued, "I would've never guessed you're Mr. Finstock's daughter."  
She heard the brief wave of murmurs that passed through the students as they learned who Penelope was.  
"Anyway, I hope you don't get too lost during the lesson. We're currently working on the study of evolution."  
"I actually took Advance Placement Chemistry in my old school," Penelope replied, lowering her voice, "so I'm familiar with evolution."  
Mr. Harris raised an eyebrow, seeming to acknowledge he had a decent student in his classroom, and turned to the rest of the class. "Very well," he said monotonously. "Take a seat next to Mr. Stilinski. Perhaps with your advance knowledge on the topic of the study unit, you'll be able to help one of my dimmest students."  
A chuckle radiated throughout the classroom as the boy who Mr. Harris gestured to sighed and looked to the boy sitting next to him. "Um," Penelope interrupted politely, not liking being used to insult some boy, "he seems to already have a partner."  
"Yes," Mr. Harris replied, a hint of impatient sarcasm evident in his voice. "But I'm sure Mr. Stilinski and Mr. McCall will survive being apart. Let me know if the separation anxiety gets to be too much. I wouldn't want the two lovebirds being distracted even more than they already are, seeing as they never pay my class any attention anyway."  
The class chuckled again as who Penelope assumed was Mr. McCall reluctantly stood up from his stool next to Mr. Stilinski and moved to an empty place next to another student.  
Penelope walked to the back of the classroom, many eyes following her, and sat next to Mr. Stilinski.  
"Now class," Mr. Harris said, resuming his lecturing teachings.  
His droning voice faded since Penelope didn't pay much attention as she sat down and placed her things on the desk. She was looking at the handsome boy from the locker room; he was sitting next to a very provocatively dressed blonde girl.  
_Figures_, Penelope thought to herself.  
She kept looking at him, the sunlight coming in from the window illuminating his outline. He had a magnificent jawline, and such lovely lips. He was just gorgeous.  
Penelope nearly had a heart attack when he turned his head and met her stare. She managed to casually look away and turn her eyes to the front of the classroom where Mr. Harris was writing lesson points on the board, but she couldn't help her blushing.  
Soon afterwards, Mr. Harris was done speaking for the lesson and walked through the aisles and handed out the classwork.  
"So," Penelope began, turning to her partner with a friendly smile. She saw that he was cute; he had dark, buzz-cut hair, an innocent looking face and a charming smile. "I'm Penelope. Hi."  
"Hey," the boy said with a small nod. "I'm Stiles."  
Penelope chuckled lightly, writing her name on her papers.  
"Sorry," she told Stiles, looking up at him. "I don't mean to laugh, it's just that I've never heard that name before."  
Stiles smirked a little and replied, "It's just something everyone calls me. It's not my real name."  
Penelope turned her attention back to her classwork, finishing it with ample time left in class.  
Despite Mr. Harris' accusations, Stiles didn't seem at all dim-witted. He finished all his work as well, and from what Penelope could tell, he had everything correct.  
"Who's your friend?" she asked Stiles lightly as he glanced back at his previous partner for the countless time.  
"Oh," Stiles replied, "that's just Scott."  
"The separation anxiety isn't getting to be too much, is it?" Penelope joked. They both laughed lightly at her mocking Mr. Harris.  
"I'm just kidding," she told him. "I'm sure you're not much like Mr. Harris says you are."  
"Thanks," Stiles said sarcastically, the hint of a smile peeking at the corner of his lips. The bell rang, dismissing class.  
"Leave your classwork on my desk," Mr. Harris called out to the leaving students.  
"See you around," Stiles said to her as he gathered his things and turned to leave. Scott came up to him.  
"Hey," the dark, shaggy-haired boy quickly said to Penelope with a small head nod.  
Penelope simply smiled at him and nodded back as the two left. They seemed like nice boys.  
Looking down at her schedule and map, she saw that she had Algebra II across the school.


	2. Helen of Troy

Penelope had managed to comfortably get through her Algebra II class, making pleasant, casual conversation with a few other students along the way. She sheepishly confirmed that she was indeed Coach Finstock's daughter several times. Everyone seemed interested by the fact.  
Most of the other students in her Algebra II class were upperclassmen, since it was an advanced class for a Sophomore to be taking. Same went for almost all of her classes, she learned, as the day passed. She did have Stiles in many of her classes though. Now she was sure Mr. Harris only picked on Stiles because of a personal grudge against him, because Stiles obviously wasn't stupid if he was in so many advanced classes.  
_Must suck having a teacher hate you_, Penelope thought as she sat down at the end of an empty lunch table in the loud, crowded lunchroom. She hung her messenger bag off the back of her chair and sat down, taking a bite out of the red apple in her hand, her lunch for the day since she wasn't very hungry and the school food wasn't very appealing anyway. She set her apple down on the table and turned around to pull her history book from her bag. She planned to get some work done. When she turned around again, she was surprised to see the handsome, mystery boy from earlier sitting across from her. She quickly swallowed the apple in her mouth and straightened up, placing her book on the table and hiding her nervously fidgeting hands in her lap.  
"Hello," he said in a smooth voice, taking amusement at the surprised face of the new girl.  
"Um," Penelope said in a vacant tone. She mentally slapped herself for sounding so dumb and gathered her wits. "Hi," she managed to recovery, sounding less daft.  
"I'm Isaac," he said charmingly, smiling dangerously at her.  
"I'm Penelope," she said, smiling softly back at him. Her hands were still fidgeting nervously in her lap, but knowing his name somehow made her feel a bit more at ease, like he wasn't such a dark, mysterious stranger anymore.  
"Nice flower," he said, looking curiously at the purple flower she had tucked into her hair.  
"Oh," she said nervously, reaching up and touching it lightly, "thanks. I nearly forgot it was there."  
"I noticed it this morning in the locker room," Isaac replied.  
Penelope felt herself blush as she remembered the morning, as well as when he had caught her staring at him. Thankfully, he didn't bring that up. But she knew he was probably thinking about it.  
"I apologize for the team if they embarrassed you," he added.  
"Well," she said timidly with a shrug, "boys will be boys."  
Isaac chuckled lightly, smiling at her. Penelope smiled sheepishly back at him.  
There was a short moment of silence, though it wasn't really silent in the lunchroom filled with teenagers. Looking at him, she was nearly mesmerized by his radiance. Up close in the sunlit room, she could see his eyes weren't black like she had initially thought. Instead, they were a dazzling grey, almost a sort of blue. And his skin was so perfect, like polished stone. And his jawline was so strong and rugged.  
All of these thoughts flooded Penelope's mind in a second's time before she looked down at her book for a distraction, feeling herself blush as Isaac smirked. Just then, the traipsing blonde from Chemistry sat down next to Isaac.  
She inclined her chin at Penelope and raised an eyebrow, obviously judging the new girl.  
"Hi," the girl said coolly.  
Penelope furrowed her eyebrows lightly, not liking the entitled tone in her voice.  
"Hi," she said kindly, deciding not to match her rudeness.  
"I'm Erica," the blonde said proudly. Penelope smiled politely at Erica, disregarding her irritating attitude.  
"Nice to meet you," she said calmly. "I'm-"  
"I know who you are," Erica interrupted. "Everyone does. You're Penelope, _the coach's daughter_."  
"Yep," she said placidly. "That's me."  
"It must suck being the new girl," Erica said indelicately, tilting her head with a smirk.  
"Erica," Isaac chided, turning his head to her in a weary tone that suggested he was used to her rashness. Penelope knew Erica knew she was being abrasive, but could also sense she didn't care.  
Before she could reply to the waiting girl's tantalizing comment, two boys sat down at the table, one next to Penelope and one across the table next to Erica.  
"Hi guys," Stiles said enthusiastically.  
"Scott," Isaac said dully, turning his eyes to each boy, "Stiles."  
"Isaac," Scott said thickly next to Penelope, narrowing his eyes at the boy for a moment. He turned to look at Penelope for a moment, suspicion flooding his face. He quickly looked away, turning his attention to Erica and Isaac.  
"We're just talking to the new girl," Erica said sweetly. No one spoke for another moment, letting the situation fester.  
"So," Penelope said awkwardly, feeling forgotten in the conversation, "you guys are all... _friends?_"  
"Sure," Isaac said smoothly, turning back to her with a smirk, "why not."  
Penelope sensed the tension between everyone and simply nodded in understanding.  
Another dark haired and alabaster-skinned girl sat next to Stiles.  
"Hey," she said, a concerned look on her face. "What's going on?"  
"Nothing," Stiles said quickly, turning to the girl. "We're just eating lunch _with the new girl_, Penelope."  
She turned her eyes to the end of the table and noticed Penelope for the first time.  
"Oh!" she said in surprise, a smile replacing the concerned look on her face. "Hi Penelope! I'm Allison."  
"Hi Allison," she said kindly, hiding her amusement and suspicion.  
"Nice to have another new girl at school," Allison said in a friendly tone.  
"Am I taking someone's title as new girl," Penelope inquired.  
"Mine actually," Allison replied. "But I'm hardly new anymore. I've been here a few months now, so everyone's use to me."  
"It's a hard job," Penelope joked, "but I guess someone has to do it. The school might get bored without someone to look at."  
"I think I have that covered," another girl said, joining the conversation as she sat down across from Allison, next to Scott. She had long, strawberry-blonde hair and a proud smile on her perfectly made-up face. "I'm Lydia."  
"Penelope," she replied, looking to the side across Scott to meet Lydia's eyes.  
"Like Helen of Troy's insignificant cousin," Lydia replied matter-of-factly, paying Penelope no attention as she turned to her lunch.  
Allison gave Lydia a disapproving look, though she didn't seem to notice.  
"Yeah," Penelope replied, unscathed. "Penelope may not be written as a major role in history, but I'd rather she be my namesake than Helen. Helen was beautiful, but she was empty-headed and destructive."  
The other people at the table all smirked, looking down to hide their amusement. They all knew Lydia had a sharp tongue, and apparently the new girl did, too.  
"I suppose," Lydia replied highly, paying her salad more respectful attention than Penelope. "But hardly anyone knows Penelope's name, now do they? No good comes from being small and powerless."  
"I beg to differ," Penelope said politely. "She was hardly powerless. Penelope was great enough to be married to the glorious Odysseus, and I think that's a much more honorable story than Helen's. And she wasn't responsible for a senseless war that got thousands killed either, unlike Helen who selfishly ran away from her responsibilities with a prince from Troy for her own petty reasons and got an empire destroyed."  
"Hmm," Lydia said indifferently. "At least Helen has a spot in history."  
"She could've done it better, though," Penelope rebutted. "She had a voice that could've prevented all the trouble she caused, but was too foolish and childish to use it."  
"At least Helen _had_ a voice," Lydia said impatiently, turning to Penelope with a finalizing look and cold eyes.  
Penelope took a deep breath and held her stare.  
"I guess so," she said calmly with an unreadable face, looking away from Lydia.  
The others at the table held back their smirks.  
"Why are you even sitting here, Allison?" Lydia asked her dark haired friend.  
"Because, Lydia," Allison replied patiently, "they're my friends."  
Lydia simply sighed and went back to her salad. At the end of the table, two more boys sat down, joining the group of students.  
"Why are we sitting here, Jackson?" a tall, honey-skinned boy asked quietly.  
"Because we always sit here," he said strongly. "What are all of _you_ doing here?" he asked, looking down the table of mix-matched populars and misfits.  
"Hi," Penelope said apologetically, smiling sheepishly at Jackson. "Sorry, I sat down and they were all just being...friendly, and welcoming the new girl. I didn't know this was your table."  
"Yeah," Jackson said bluntly. "It is."  
"Well, I was just leaving anyway," Penelope said tactfully. "It was nice meeting you all," she added with a kind smile as she stood and picked up her messenger bag and book that she had never gotten to read.  
"See you later Penelope" Isaac said enchantingly, smiling attractively at her.  
Penelope fought her habit of blushing and nodded at him, turning to leave the eventful lunch.  
She hoped she had at least not made any enemies, if not even any friends.

* * *

Having a free hour in her schedule at the end of the school day, Penelope sat outside in Beacon Hills Highschool's courtyard. She was sitting on a bench with her history book in her lap. She had finished her homework and was now only reading for her own enjoyment. The school bell soon rang and a few minutes later was followed by the rush of students eager to leave. Penelope turned to gather her bag from the bench. When she turned back to get her book, she was again startled to see Isaac sitting next to her, his arm resting on the back of the bench. He held her book out to her with his charming smile that she remembered all too well.  
"You should really stop doing that," she chided him with a small smile, taking her book.  
"Stop doing what?" Isaac asked innocently.  
"Sneaking up on me," she replied.  
"Maybe you're just not very attentive," he suggested, raising an eyebrow to her. Penelope chuckled.  
"Maybe," she agreed.  
"You seem to have your books out a lot," he noted.  
"Yeah," Penelope replied. "I guess I read a lot."  
"Hmm," Isaac replied in good spirits. "So you're a book worm."  
Penelope worked to hold back a smile without success.  
"It's interesting stuff," she said defensively, sliding her book into her bag.  
"I can tell you're a brainiac," Isaac teased.  
Penelope blushed and smiled again.  
"It's not a bad thing," he continued. "I suppose it can come in handy, at times like lunch today."  
Penelope laughed and rolled her eyes.  
"That was fun," she said sarcastically.  
"It was entertaining to watch," Isaac agreed with a nod. "Lydia seems to be threatened by you."  
"Oh," Penelope sighed. "Well, I'm not here to threaten anyone. Lydia can keep her power, or whatever it is she feels challenged to keep."  
"You don't care about power?" Isaac asked her, intrigued. Penelope shrugged.  
"I don't think it's all everyone makes it out to be," she said simply. "It's such a..." she searched for the right words. "It's such a perspective thing. After all, it's just power. It only matters if you care about it."  
Isaac seemed impressed and confused at the same time. Penelope smiled sheepishly and looked away.  
"Sorry," she replied. "It's just some of my wackjob thinking."  
"Don't be sorry," Isaac told her, studying her face with curiosity. Penelope felt herself blush and stood up from the bench.  
"I should get going," she said, adjusting her shoulder strap.  
"Me too," Isaac said, standing up as well. "I have practice to get to."  
Penelope raised her eyebrows and smirked at him.  
"I'd say have fun, but...well, I know my dad."  
Isaac chuckled.  
"I'll see you around," he said.  
"Yeah," Penelope said cheerfully, "I'll see you around."  
They both turned and went their separate ways, joining the flow of bustling teenagers.  
Penelope had an uncontrollable smile on her face.  
That was twice that he had come and found her that day.  
It was a good first day.


	3. Lone Wolf

Penelope pulled the hood up on her grey hoodie as she walked down the side of the long, empty road. It was surrounded by the Beacon Hills forest on both sides for as far as the eye could see.  
She hoped her jacket would keep the light drizzle from making her hair uncomfortably damp and frizzy. The inconvenient, dark clouds had invaded the blue sky out of nowhere, Penelope noted. The weather in Beacon Hills was obviously erratic. She would remember that for the next time she thought about leaving her umbrella at the house. She scowled slightly as she remembered her father mentioning to bring it that morning and how she had ignored him.  
After a few minutes of walking in the increasing heavy rain, Penelope looked behind her and pulled out her earbuds that were playing her music as a silver car slowed down next to her. It took Penelope a moment to realize the driver was Allison as she nodded to the backseat, gesturing for Penelope to get out of the rain and into the car.  
Penelope hesitated slightly before opening the back door and stepping into the car, slamming the door shut behind her and closing out the bad weather.  
"Thanks," she said gratefully, looking at Allison with a grateful smile. She saw that Lydia was in the front passengar seat as well. Penelope gave her a more timid smile, but the redhead just looked away without a word.  
"No problem," Allison said, pulling away from the side of the road. "So," she asked, "where's your house?"  
"Um," Penelope said, pausing to remember her street adress for a moment. "I'm terrible with directions, sorry. I know my way by sight rather than an address."  
Allison chuckled.  
"That's fine, just tell me when to turn," she said.  
Penelope sat back, hoping she wasn't getting Allison's car very wet.  
"How are you liking Beacon Hills so far?" Allison asked pleasantly, preventing an awkward silence from festering. Lydia was still looking out the window with a stony glare.  
Penelope ignored this and replied, "It's nice. I haven't been part of it too long, so I guess I can't tell for sure, but I like Beacon Hills." "It grows on you," Allison said.  
"I'm sure it will," Penelope agreed politely. She chuckled and added sheepishly, "I'm lucky you picked me up. I was walking because it seemed like such a nice day. Then came the rain. I didn't expect this weather."  
"Yeah, I was surprised by it when I first moved here, too," Allison said, amusement in her voice. "You get used to it."  
The radio softly played a popular song that they had all heard many times in the background, easing the silence that fell on the three teenage girls.  
"Turn right here," Penelope told Allison, pointing to a side road. "I'm the last house at the end of the street."  
Allison followed her directions and pulled up into the driveway of a small sized house at the end of a quiet street.  
"It's weird pulling up to Coach Finstock's house," she joked lightly.  
"I bet it is," Penelope said. "Well, thanks again for the ride. Bye Allison," she said as she opened the door. "Bye Lydia," she added, closing the door behind her as she jogged to her front door. She looked behind her and waved at the retreating silver car before jumping into the dry safety of her house. She flipped on the light and sighed, taking off her damp jacket and hanging it on the coat hanger by the door, next to her taunting umbrella that she had left there earlier that day.  
Kicking off her sneakers, Penelope walked to the kitchen and dropped her messenger bag on the counter. She briefly checked her bag to make sure nothing had been reached by her time in the surprise rain storm. After assuring herself that all her belongings were fine, she grabbed a quick snack from the pantry closet. she settled on a granola bar, not feeling very hungry. Besides, she would soon be eating the dinner that she began preparing for her and her father.  
Deciding on a classic dinner of pasta and meatballs, Penelope set the dinner to cook as she went upstairs to her bedroom. Entering the decent sized room, she dropped her bag onto the end of her bed. She sat down with a huff and looked around her new bedroom. It had been her bedroom over the years when she would visit her father, but her primary room had always been the one back at her mother's house. Now this one was no longer just for visits. It would be her new little corner of the world for the next three years until graduation. The semi-empty closet was open, a few of her clothes hung up, but most of them still in the boxes on the floor, along with the rest of her belongings. She had one large window facing the front of the house, as well as one facing the back of the house and the forest that surrounded her quaint street. It seemed to surround the whole small town of Beacon Hills, actually.  
Penelope liked the woods. She thought they were nice and quiet, and pleasant to look at, too. Her previous town had been much more developed, closer to the other city-towns of California. One of the things she had liked about the visits with her father when she was a little girl were the _mystical_ woods. They had been much more mystical when she was a little girl, of course, when she associated them with fairies and magical creatures, like the ones in her story books. Now she simply liked them for the much more logical reason of nature's beauty. She smiled at the memories of her imaginative fantasies as a child and opened the curtains around her room, opening her view of the rain. It was calming now that she wasn't being attacked by it.  
Turning her attention back to the inside of her house, Penelope kneeled down by one of the boxes around her room. She wasn't completely unpacked yet. Now would be a good time to finish. The cardboard box she was at was filled with books, like several of the other boxes. Penelope had many books. She honestly wasn't anti-social or anything of the sort, but she did prefer literature to other things. It was big enough for her to fill all that space in her life that other people filled with sports and hobbies and friends.  
Penelope soon had most of her books unpacked. Bookcases and shelves would've been ineffiecient to store all her many books, so she instead stacked them against the forest-facing wall from the floor to the ceiling, creating a wall mural of books. She proudly ran her fingers over the titled spines of her books that ranged from classic literature, such as Shakespear and Edgar Allen Poe, to more business oriented subjects, such as modern day stock market and artitecture. They all fascinated her nontheless.  
Turning away, Penelope looked at the rest of her room. She hung up the rest of her clothes in her closet and put them away into the drawers of her dresser. They were all very casual. In the back of her closet were a few floral summer dresses that her distant grandmother had bought for her, oblivious of Penelope's ability to go extremely long periods of time in only jeans and plain shirts.  
She wouldn't call herself a tom-boy and cared about her femininity, but Penelope was fine with keeping her girliness to a minimum. She had a decent amount of concern for her looks, but also wouldn't fuss over them much either. She always wore small, simple studs in her single pair of ear piercings and didn't bother with make-up. She counted her blessings with having clear, fair skin and wouldn't try to go beyond that. She kept her long, curly hair healthy and relatively managed with small amounts of product, but her style was always either loose down her back or otherwise in a lazy bun if it wouldn't cooperate.  
Penelope's mother was an understanding woman and had raised her to be a clean, proper girl. She definitely had a more detailed sense of fashion and style, and though she probably would've like Penelope to be the same, she never forced anything on her. She accepted her daughter with her "plain" sense of style, as she put it, and they had a good mother-daughter relationship despite their differences.  
After only a few boxes were left to be unpacked in her bedroom, Penelope went downstairs to check up on dinner. The spaghetti and meatballs were done, as well as the garlic bread she had stuck in the oven. She set out the dinnerware and food for her small family of two and let it cool down. A few minutes later around 5 o'clock, nearly two hours after school had ended, she heard the front door opening with the clatter of her father.  
Bobby Finstock followed the unfamiliar smell of home-made food into the kitchen and stood looking at the dinner before him.  
"You made dinner?" he asked his daughter in his gruff voice, dropping his keys and things onto the kitchen counter and then taking a seat at the table across from her.  
"Hi to you too," Penelope said with a smile. "Yeah, I made dinner. No offence, but I prefer my cooking skills to yours."  
"This looks good," he said in surprise, taking a mouthful of the food.  
"It wasn't much difficulty," she said jovially. "I mean, it all comes in pretty packaging with plain english intructions. You can't really go wrong with it."  
Mr. Finstock laughed his bark of a laugh and replied, "_You_ can't go wrong with it. That doesn't apply to all of us, more specifically me."  
Penelope smiled at her father's remark and continued to eat her food. Without her there, she knew he would survive on take-out and junk food. She was glad to be there to keep him from being so lonely any longer.  
"So you guys practiced in the rain?" she inquired.  
"Games happen in the rain, so I have to get those girls used to it," he answered, his way of saying yes.  
"_Dad_," she addressed him, scolding him for his sexist choice of words.  
"Ah," he moaned, "sorry. You know what I mean."  
She chuckled lightly and nodded her head. "I know," she told him.  
"So did any of the idiots at school give you a hard time?" he asked his daughter.  
Penelope rolled her eyes with a smirk, knowing this was his was of asking if she had a good day.  
"No," she replied. "After I punched the biggest cellmate square in the nose, none of the punks messed with me," she joked.  
Mr. Finstock laughed at his daughter's joke and looked at her.  
"Did you make any friends?" he asked, slightly awkwardly. He loved his daughter more than anything, but regardless of that fact, Bobby Finstock wasn't comfortable with showing care. Penelope shrugged at his question.  
"A girl named Allison gave me a ride home," she said casually, not mentioning all the others she had met.  
"Argent," Mr. Finstock said, matching the name to one of the many faces of the teenagers at Beacon Hills High School. "Nice girl."  
"Yeah," Penelope agreed, "she's nice."  
"Did...uh," he began even more awkwardly, raising an pleading eyebrow, "any boys-"  
"Dad," Penelope cut him off with a smirk, saving him from his misery. "No. That's not gonna happen. Besides, I've been here one day." Though her mind did briefly flash to one boy...  
"Okay," he breathed, "you know, I just have to ask."  
"I appreciate it," she said with a grin, amused at her father's bumbling tendencies.  
The two finished dinner in small conversation. Penelope stood up and brought her dishes to the sink, washing it and putting it to dry.  
"I'm gonna go to my room and unpack some more," Penelope called out as she walked up the stairs.  
For the next few hours, she did just that. Eventually, all her things were comfortably settled in her room, though she didn't have much besides her books. Now it really felt like _her_ room.  
Her radio that her I-pod was charging in was on top of her dresser along with a small jewelry box. A charming mix-matched sea of blankets and pillows made up her bed, a collection of her old, new, and bought-from-vintage-thrift-store bedding. They went cozily with the calming blue walls that Penelope loved. Her desk, which was in front of the forest-facing window and snugly tucked into her wall of books, had her school bag and some basic supplies, along with her laptop and sketch pad. There was nothing that she thought was incredibly artsy; Penelope had come across her talent for drawing when she was younger and just liked to draw the world in her sketch pad when she saw something that she liked. There were some sketches of the pleasant town life, like a small cafe she had come to know, but she had never aspired to any full pieces of art. She even had a beautiful drawing of an old tree that had been by her mother's house, but that was it.  
Penelope plopped down on her comfy bed and looked up at the ceiling for a moment. Glancing out her windows, she saw that the rain had suddenly stopped just as it had started. She shook her head at the indecisive weather and brought her bag to her bed to get her schoolwork. There wasn't very much work, being the first day back from winter break, but there were a few worksheets to do. Her teachers had also given her some extra work, just to make sure she knew everything that the other students had already learned. After a few hours of homework, her radio playing music to fill her otherwise quiet room, Penelope was done and glanced at her clock. It was only 8 o'clock, not nearly late enough to fall asleep. The rain had stopped and it looked like a clear night. Thinking about it for a moment, Penelope decided to go for a walk.  
She skipped down the stairs and stopped at the door to put on her shoes.  
"Dad," Penelope called out to where ever he was in the house, "I'm just going for a walk. I'll have my cell-phone with me."  
She heard him mumble something in return but didn't understand what he said. Waving it off, she opened the door and stepped out into the cool night. It was a nice temperature, only a bit cooler than the day had been. Not having an particular destination, she walked down the street, turning onto the large road. After a moment, she looked into the forest that she was walking along side and decided to venture in.  
The leaf covered ground was damp and a bit squishy, but not unbearable. Humming softly with her hands in her pockets, Penelope walked leisurely through the forest, looking around at the landscape of deep greens and soft browns under the growing light of the moon and stars. She heard the rustling of leaves and the flapping of wings overhead as an inconspicuous bird took flight, its outline briefly silhoueted against the black sky before it disappeared. She kept walking straight, staying where she guessed was parallel to her house a little while's away. The pleasantly earthy smell of the forest was calming to Penelope, especially after rain. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling the warm scent. She opened her eyes again when she heard something. Listening intently, she didn't hear anything other than the odinary buzz of the forest for a moment, but then she heard it again. It was a far away sound, coming from possible anywhere in the vast forest, but it sounded like an animal. The noise got louder and Penelope recognized it as a howl, a wolf howl it seemed.  
'_Poor thing_,' Penelope thought to herself sympathetically. She knew wolfs howled when they were separated from their pack, all alone and lost from their family.  
Looking at her phone, Penelope saw that she had been gone for almost an hour. Deciding that was long enough, she began to walk in the direction she trusted was towards her house. She was fortunately right with this and eventually saw the back of her house from a distance. Coming out of the forest in her backyard, she walked around to the front of her house to the unlocked front door and walked it, taking off her muddied converse. Her father was sitting at the dining table, papers spread out in front of him.  
"What's all that?" Penelope asked curiously, pouring a glass of water to drink.  
"It's just a bunch of teacher forms," he answered.  
"Have fun with that," she replied cheerfully.  
"Ha," she heard him bark as she went up to her bedroom.  
Penelope plopped down on her bed and felt a wave of sleepiness come over her. She sluggishly changed into cotton shorts and a t-shirt for pajamas. Setting an alarm for school tomorrow morning, she lied down in bed and began to drift off into sleep.  
The people she had met today came into her mind, acompanied with the wondering thought of what they would come to be to her.  
As she slipped under, Penelope thought she heard the lone wolf howl again.  
'_Good luck_,' she thought to the crying animal.


	4. Miss Master Toe-Stepper

Penelope opened her eyes to the sound of her alarm clock and rolled over in bed, sluggishly smacking the buzzing device until she hit the button to turn it off. She rolled out of bed to get ready for the day at school.  
Less than an hour later, Penelope stood in front of the full-body mirror that stood in the corner of her room. She look contently at her reflection. She wore long, decently fitting jeans, her beloved converse, and a plain t-shirt with a large smiley face on the front. It hugged her petite torso snugly but not too tightly.  
'It's not like there's anything to show,' she thought to herself, walking away from the mirror to grab her backpack and leave for school. Penelope wasn't one with very much womanly curves, in her opinion. But she had grown used to the fact. She was comfortable with her simple looks.  
Brushing her long curls over her shoulder to fall down her back, she skipped down the stairs to the front door. Her father had already left; being a teacher at Beacon Hills High School, Coach Finstock was there earlier than the students. She stopped in her kitchen to grab a bright red apple before she left. Slipping the single key off the hook by the door, she exited her house and walked to her car. She had only left it at home yesterday because she had gone to school with her dad on her first morning and had planned to walk home on such a seemingly nice day. What she hadn't planned for was the foul weather.  
Her car was a simple gray truck, and she loved it. Her mother and father had both offered to pay for a car for her 16th birthday, since she never really asked for much, and her truck was the one she had chosen. It was low-priced, had good mileage and Penelope thought its humble character was endearing. Turning her key in the ignition, the truck's familiar rumble greeting her, Penelope backed out of the drive-way and headed to school.

Penelope pulled into the Beacon Hills High School parking lot. She spotted an empty lot right by the entrance of the school.  
Wondering why no one had taken it, she headed towards the prime spot. Just as she was about to turn into the empty space, a silver Porsche cut her off and stole the spot. Jolting forward a bit as she hit the brakes, Penelope scowled at the ostentatious car.  
"That was real nice of you," Penelope said aloud in her truck, throwing her hand in the direction of the Porsche "Who the hell needs a car like that in high school anyway?" she added with irritation.  
As she drove a few parking spots away and pulled into an empty one, she saw that it was in fact Jackson Whittemore who apparently needed a car like that in high school. She watched him step boldly out of his shiny little car and lock it with a irksome 'beep-beep.'  
"Of course," she said bluntly to herself, taking an irritated bite out of her apple and shaking her head as she stepped out of her car and adjusted her bag's shoulder strap. Pausing to look into her bag for a moment to try and find her cellphone, she leaned back against the side of her car and held her apple in her mouth.  
"That's yours?" a voice asked bluntly from the sidewalk in front of her. She looked up and had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes as she saw who it was. Taking a loud, indifferent bite out of her red apple, Penelope nodded and gave him a smile, locking her truck protectively.  
"Looks about right for a teacher's salary," he said frankly with a disapproving look. Penelope took a deep breath and furrowed her eyebrows at the boy.  
"Have a nice day, " she said monotonously, straightening from her car and walking past him, this time not refraining from rolling her eyes. She heard him scoff as she passed and shook her head with a sigh. She took another deep breath through her nose and walked through the front doors of her new school, dropping the rest of her apple into a trashcan with her sudden loss of appetite. Glancing at her phone before she slipped it into her pocket, she saw that she had about 20 minutes before first period.

Shaking the built-in lock on her locker door, Penelope groaned and dropped her head in frustration. She let her bag drop to the floor beside her and tried again for the dozenth time to open the metal door. With a huff, she looked down at the locker combination on her schedule to assure herself that she was entering the right numbers; she was. As she tried the lock again with an exasperated look, a boy walked up beside Penelope and looked curiously at her. Penelope noticed and looked up at him sideways.  
"Hi?" she asked timidly, questioning why he was just standing there. She recognized him as the boy she had met in Chemistry class yesterday; Stiles. "Stiles, right?"  
The boy nodded and smirked bemusedly at her.  
"Yeah," he said, raising an eyebrow. "Uh, may I?" he asked, gesturing to the locker Penelope was struggling with.  
"I guess so," she said hesitantly, stepping back. "The combo's-"  
She stopped when Stiles effortlessly opened the locker and began putting his backpack in.  
"I know the combination," the boy said kindly, clearly holding back a smirk as he turned to Penelope, "since it's _my_ locker."  
"What?" Penelope asked, confused. She furrowed her brows and looked down at her schedule, realizing that Stiles was telling the truth. The paper clearly stated that her locker was one over to the right. Feeling a blush creep into her cheeks, she looked up at the boy and smiled bashfully.  
"Yeah," she said apologetically, moving over to her actual locker, "that is your locker. No wonder my combination wasn't working on it. Sorry about that..."  
Stiles chuckled and continued going through his own locker for his things for class. The neighboring locker door opened on Penelope's first try and she silently sighed at her embarrassing mistake, picking up her bag and putting it away.  
"No problem," the boy said with a grin, clearly amused. Penelope quickly had all her things out and closed her locker door.  
Penelope stood awkwardly, holding her things for class in her arms. She smiled at Stiles chuckled at her nervousness.  
"So," she said, "how's your morning been going, besides the new girl trying to break into your locker?"  
"Fine enough," Stiles replied with a smirk. "I'll have to hold onto that memory to survive Harris' class. He sure makes for a bright morning."  
"I noticed," Penelope said sympathetically. "What's it like, having such a..._special_ relationship with a teacher?"  
"It's heartwarming, really," Stiles said sarcastically. "I could ask you the same thing, you know. At least Harris isn't my dad."  
Penelope nodded in agreement. "You got me there," she said.  
"I would never think you're Finstock's daughter," Stiles said as they walked through the hallway after he gathered his things. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. I think it's actually a good thing you're not a girl version of him. That's a... scary thought. You don't seem as, uh, _loud_... as him. It's just weird to think of Coach being a dad, and even weirder to think that he would have a daughter. He's just seems like a...loner kind of guy."  
"Yeah," Penelope agreed, dodging passing students in the busy hallway. "I mean, I guess I'm the only thing about him that makes him not...loner-y."  
"Is that why you moved here?" Stiles asked curiously, glancing at her.  
Penelope shrugged, feeling a bit uneasy. Her conversations with people didn't usually last this long. She would have expected it to end at the lockers. "My mom remarried recently, so she has someone else to take care of. I guess it just feels better to be here with my dad. I kinda fit better with him, anyways."  
'_We're both loners_,' she added in her head. '_That's what his daughter got from him._'  
"I get it. It's just me and my dad, too."  
"Your parents are divorced?" Penelope asked casually, carrying on the conversation.  
She thought Stiles hesitated, but before he could answer, a boy with dark, slightly shaggy hair nearly jumped Stiles in evident excitement.  
"Stiles!" he called urgently.  
"Good morning to you, too, Scott," Stiles said sarcastically. Penelope smirked at his comment.  
"It happened again," Scott said quietly, ignoring his friend's joking. The amusement left Stile's face as the two sunk into their discussion. In the loud hallway, Penelope missed the next few things they said, and she suddenly felt like she was eavesdropping on a conversation she had just been a part of moments ago.  
"Um," she said timidly, not sure of what to do now that she had pretty much been dismissed. "I'll just see you in class then-"  
"I'll see you later, Penelope," Stiles said quickly, turning to the forgotten girl for a short moment before the two curious boys dashed away, clearly not having heard her.  
Penelope stood in her spot in the hallway, watching them disappear into the stream of people, and sighed, not sure what had just happened.  
She turned around to enter the doorway to the Chemistry classroom and felt herself bounce back off of something, or someone, solid coming from the opposite direction.  
"Oh!" Penelope exclaimed in surprise as a small mess of papers fell to the floor. She quickly knelt down to grab her things without looking at the person she had crashed into as she offered a fluster of apologies. They reached down to pick up a few papers, too.  
"Sorry," she sputtered, standing up and holding her papers in her arms. She nearly yelped when she saw that it was Isaac who she had the misfortune, or maybe fortune, of running into.  
"After you," he said, amusement in his handsome smile as motioned to the classroom doorway.  
She nodded sheepishly and walked into the classroom. She placed her things on the lab desk and began organizing the pile of papers she had picked up, catching her breath.  
If crashing into someone hadn't been enough to fluster her, then that boy certainly was.  
She picked out a few papers on her desk covered in boyish handwriting and nervously glanced over her shoulder. She sighed inwardly as she walked across the classroom that was now filling with students as the last few minutes before class started passed.  
"I think I got a few of your papers," Penelope said as she walked around Isaac's desk to stand in front of where he was sitting on his lab stool. She swallowed nervously and held his papers out to him.  
"Sorry about that, by the way," she continued quickly with an apologetic smile. "I'm just a klutz, sometimes."  
'_All the time_,' she corrected in her head. Issac grinned and shook his head.  
"That's fine," he told her, taking the papers from her with a charming smile. She felt her heart nearly skip a beat when his hands brushed against hers when he took the papers. "I should probably be the one apologizing, anyway."  
Penelope smiled politely and nodded, turning around as as Mr. Harris entered the classroom.  
She hoped she wasn't blushing. She could be so pathetic at times.  
"Take your seats, students," he said emotionlessly, placing his briefcase and mug of coffee on his long desk at the front of the room. "Class will begin in a few minutes."  
Penelope smirked at his cheery mood and sat at her desk; she was sitting in the spot that Scott had moved to yesterday after Mr. Harris had ordered her into his seat. She didn't want to over-step her welcome and was trying not to deliberately separate Stiles and his friend.  
As the first bell rang though, she was wondering where those two boys even were, since they were not in class.  
A few minutes later, they guiltily crept into the classroom as Mr. Harris had his back turned to the class while he wrote on the board. The teacher visibly sighed, his shoulders drooping even lower than usual as he spoke.  
"Detention, you two."  
Light laughter radiated throughout the room at the punishment while Penelope grimaced and held back a chuckle at Stiles' silent, comedic reaction of a disbelieving face and a snarl.  
The two sat down at their lab table as Mr. Harris turned around.  
"Did you two forget your new arrangements already? I know it may be difficult for you two to remember details and retain intelligence in general, but it was only yesterday. Surely, you're not that hopeless."  
'_This is going to be a long year of Chemistry,_' Penelope thought, raising her eyebrows.  
Scott grabbed his things and slumped to where Penelope was sitting.  
"Sorry," she whispered sincerely with a shrug that said 'I tried.' Scott smirked at her as she stood up and switched seats with him.  
More than an hour later, the merciful school bell rang and released them from Mr. Harris' class and the room audibly exhaled. As they stampeded towards the door, he reminded them to have their permission slips signed and turn them in by Friday; they would be doing a lab experiment next week.

* * *

Penelope sat at an empty lunch table, making sure it wasn't the mighty Jackson Whittemore's; she learned the first time from her mistakes. She put in her ear buds in and started her music, the buzz of the cafeteria playing in the background, as she took a bite out of what Beacon Hills High School called a hot-dog.  
She forced herself to chew and swallow that one bite and then put the questionable thing down with a disapproving shake of her head.  
"Gross," she said quietly to herself with a shudder, leaving the "hot-dog" alone. She downed some water from her water-bottle and sighed.  
Stiles sat down across from her with his lunch tray and an amused look on his face as he said something that was drowned out by Penelope's music. She stared at him in confusion for a moment, looking at his moving lips that made no noise, before quickly pulling out her ear buds. The noise of the rest of the room flooded back to her.  
"I didn't catch that," she said, pulling out her headphones.  
"I just said that you'll get used to it," Stiles repeated, gesturing to her lunch tray. He took a large bite out of his hamburger and smiled at her with filled cheeks. Penelope laughed at how ridiculous he looked and grinned widely.  
"Well," she replied, "I've lost my appetite for now. I'm pretty sure I just ate plastic."  
"So you're not gonna eat your fries?" Stiles asked hopefully.  
"Are you implying that you want them?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.  
"Maybe," he answered.  
"They're all yours then," Penelope said kindly, spreading her hands in front of her and turning her tray towards him.  
Stiles smiled at her and popped one of the fries into his mouth. This boy could win gold at an eating contest at the rate he was going, she noted, impressed.  
"You've just discovered how to befriend a Stiles," Scott joked as he sat down next to his best-friend with his lunch.  
"I have?" Penelope asked with an amused smile.  
"All a Stiles requires to stay happy is food, and a belly rub every now and then," Scott teased, grinning at his friend, proud of his cleverness.  
Stiles scowled, his mouth full of chips.  
"Maybe I'm not qualified then," Penelope said, putting her hands up in confession. "I've never had a dog before."  
Her and Scott shared a laugh at Stiles' expense.  
"Whatever," Stiles said, unscathed. "Besides, if anyone's a dog, it's definitely not _me_." He smirked wickedly at Scott as his friend's eyes narrowed.  
"Watch it, Stiles," Scott said lightly. "My mom doesn't want to see you at work."  
"What? Your mom's a vet?" Penelope joked lightly. She chuckled lightly as one of the corners of Stiles' lips twitched as he held back a smirk.  
"No," Scott answered bemusedly. "She's a nurse at the town's hospital."  
"Ah," Penelope nodded. "Now the threat makes much more sense. So your mom's a nurse and your dad's the sheriff in town. Must be cool having connections in higher places."  
"Why do you say that?" Scott asked quickly. Penelope didn't notice his suspicion.  
"Every town has it's secrets, right? Like, there must at least be a mild case of littering in the parks."  
"If only they were that small," Stiles mumbled, raising his eyebrows as he took a gulp from his soda can. Scott looked at him warningly.  
"They aren't?" Penelope asked curiously.  
"Well..." Stiles said guiltily, glancing at Scott. He hadn't been paying enough attention to what he was saying to stop himself; he shouldn't have brought it up. "Not really. There's actually been...a string of murders. But...yeah."  
Penelope raised her eyebrows and blinked, her mouth slightly agape.  
"Are you- Are you _serious_?" she asked in disbelief. She had not expected the friendly, joking conversation to take such a turn.  
They both nodded at her.  
"Wow," Penelope said with a grimace, sitting back in her chair. "I was just joking, but now I kinda feel like a dick."  
The two boys across from her nonchalantly waved it off, eager to change the subject. It was heading towards dangerous territory and they couldn't risk it.  
"You didn't know," Stiles said, shrugging. Penelope's natural awkwardness overwhelmed her, it's temporary leave of absence over.  
"Yeah," she said slowly. "That's- that's a...um, a bit worse than littering...I'll see you guys later."  
The boys nodded at her, almost smiling, as she got up.  
Scott smacked Stiles with an accusing glare after she had left the lunch room.  
'_I am a master at stepping on toes_,' Penelope insulted herself, shaking her head.  
At least now she knew Beacon Hills, California wasn't as quiet as it seemed; she still didn't know the half of it.


	5. Unicorn

"All I'm saying," Penelope said, pointing her fork across the table at her father, "is that it would've been nice for you to mention the murders that happened in this town. The only one that's been covered in the news was that woman who committed the arson...but there have been more, _apparently_. Many more."  
"Yeah, well," Mr. Finstock replied casually, "the police don't want to bring attention to it. And none of the victims have been kids, so...there's just no need to worry you about it. And no one wants to live in a town where somebody's getting killed every other day..."  
He let his words hang in the air and Penelope tilted her head at her father, lightly furrowing her eyebrows as she heard the concealed worry in his voice.  
"I would have come here no matter what, Dad," she said softly, offering him a light smile in response to the fear that his words hinted at. "I'm not scared away that easily. Anyways, ignorance is never bliss," she added with a teasingly scolding look, lightening the mood.  
Her father smirked across the table at his daughter's words and rolled his eyes. Penelope grinned, finishing her food.

* * *

A little while later, Penelope found herself walking through the sleepy forest again. She had left earlier than last night, allowing herself more time for whatever it was she was doing. Just wandering inquisitively, she supposed. There was a clearing up ahead, Penelope noticed curiously, walking forward. Once she was closer, she could distinguish the shape of a large building through the spindly shapes of the woods.  
_A house_, she thought, getting closer still.  
She stopped where the trees did, silently observing the big house from the side. Penelope frowned when she realized it was burned. Broken. It was a sad sight. She imagined it had been once been grand before whatever unfortunate event brought it to its current state.  
_What a woeful story that must be_, she thought.  
Looking down, she saw something that seemed out of place in the dark setting; a bright, pretty, little stem of purple flowers. She smiled down at the endearing plant, removing her hands from her pockets, and reached down,gently uprooting it from its spot in the earth, with some unanticipated effort. Penelope was surprised at how deep its roots seemed to go, but she carefully worked it out of the dirt, making sure not to harm it. She held her new found treasure in her hands and decided it was time to return home, feeling satisfied with what the night had brought her to.  
With a last glance at the ghost of a house, Penelope turned away and headed home for the night.

* * *

Penelope sat up in bed, stretching and yawning widely after assaulting her alarm clock. She slumped over to her window, bracing herself against the drastic change in light as she opened the curtains. She let a smile come to her face and glanced down at the flower pot in her window sill where she had planted her gift from the forest. She thought it was a pleasant addition to her room.  
She got ready for school with the usual shower and other preparations and was soon driving down the roads of Beacon Hills, humming along to the radio. Penelope did herself a favor and didn't bother trying to find a parking spot close to the school entrance. She was no fool to make that same mistake twice. She walked through the wide front doors with the flow of her fellow highschool students and made her way to her locker, silently singing along to the music that flowed into her ears from her headphones as she opened her locker door.  
"I love All Time Low," she heard someone say beside her. Looking up, she smiled and saw that it was Stiles.  
She greeted him with a small nod, wrapping her headphones around her iPod as they both put their things away in their lockers.  
"Who doesn't?" she agreed with a friendly smile. "They're like catnip to us angsty, _oh-so misunderstood_ teenagers."  
Stiles smirked at her joking, closing his locker door.  
"So how much boy-band music do you have on there?" he inquired, gesturing to iPod. They made their way to class, and Penelope was surprised at how naturally she fell into place walking next to him. She wasn't sure if the thought was pleasing or whether it made her nervous. Penelope grinned though, pushing the thought away.  
"I keep it to a minimum," she replied. "But I _am_ a teenage girl, after all. I'm not immune."  
Stiles laughed heartily, causing a humble grin to sprout on her face. She was doing something right.

* * *

Soon later, the school bell rang and the class found themselves once again at the mercy of Mr. Harris' droning, nearly comatose-inducing voice. Penelope jokingly mumbled as much, to no one in particular, and she almost thought she saw Isaac smirk from his seat a few desks ahead, as if he had heard her. But she chided herself because, '_Surely_,' Penelope thought, '_no one has hearing that good_;' and even if they did, they wouldn't use it to listen to her, Penelope Porter.

About an hour later, the clock ticked closer and closer to the end of Chemistry class. By then, the students were too eager to escape the classroom that they were no longer even pretending to listen to their poor teacher. Aware of this, Mr. Harris sighed, defeated, and began slowly working towards dismissing class. He announced that they would be performing a lab on Friday and they needed to have a permission slip signed and returned by then, giving them two days. Penelope made a mental note to just have her father sign it in her Economics class, which she had later that day...  
"Do try to remember," Mr. Harris pleaded half-heartedley, dropping several piles of the papers at the head of the first row of desks to be passed back.

* * *

Penelope triumphantly held her fists up in the air, proudly chewing the M&M she had just caught in her mouth.  
"I win," she said cheerfully, smirking at Stiles from across the lunch table.  
"It's called beginner's luck," he replied, lightly scowling at her.  
"I got 7 in a row, you got 5. I win. And it's called _skill_," she rebutted, sticking her tongue out at him. Scott and Allison laughed at their banter, Scott sitting next to Stiles and Allison next to Penelope.  
"We don't need food lying around," Lydia said moodily with a scoff from her reluctant spot on the other side of Allison, taking a bite of her salad and disapprovingly shaking her head at their games. "You'll attract rats."  
Stiles grin dimmed down slightly, Penelope noticed, and she let out a light sigh.  
"I'm sure we'll be fine," she replied, disregarding Lydia's snarky attitude. "Besides," Penelope added, popping another one of the small candies into her mouth, "they've gotta eat sometime."  
"Well, I'd prefer if not in my school," the strawberry blonde said. Penelope suppressed a second sigh and groaned inwardly.  
'_Right_,' she thought to herself, 'your_ school._'  
"So," Allison said brightly, obviously aiming to diffuse the tension that always seemed to form between her friend and the new girl, "how much of a leash do you have?" Penelope raised an eyebrow at Alison's question.  
"What do you mean?" she asked curiously.  
"I mean what kind of dad is Coach Finstock?" Allison replied. "Are you even allowed to leave the house?"  
Penelope laughed, nodding, and replied, "He's actually pretty chill. As long as I don't do anything _extremely_ illegal or get pregnant anytime soon, he doesn't care what I get up to."  
Allison laughed, grinning at the new girl and her slightly odd humor.  
"Sounds like a good deal," she replied.  
"That's pretty unexpected," Stiles said, "seeing as how he's a slave-driver of a coach."  
"And makes one mean economics teacher," Scott added.  
Penelope shrugged and said, "I'm pretty sure his reasoning's just along the lines of that you don't have to put a leash on a dog that doesn't bite."  
"That's good," Allison said. "You should come out with me -and Lydia -sometime," she added subtly, glancing to her left at her friend, hoping she didn't comment. Seeing no red flag, she continued casually. "There's some pretty good clubs in the area..."  
The raven-haired girl nervously let her voice fade away in the loud cafeteria at the thought of what happened at the last rave that had occurred in Beacon Hills.  
"You heard the girl, Allison," Lydia said sweetly in a matter-of-factly tone, turning her head to her friend. "The unicorn said she doesn't bite. I seriously doubt she'd fit in at a party."  
Penelope sat back in her chair at the lunch table, clenching her jaw and looking away from the nervous glances she was receiving from the three neutral teenagers at the lunch table after Lydia's remark. She took a breath and was about to speak, not sure what she wanted to say, but was interrupted by a ringing sound coming from her pocket. Lightly furrowing her brow, she took her cellphone out of her jeans and answered the call.  
"Hello?" Penelope answered, concealing all traces of discontempt in her voice as she spoke. All she heard in reply was a static jumble of butchered words. She listened for a moment with a confused look on her face before Stiles spoke.  
"The signal in the cafeteria sucks," he advised her.  
Penelope stood without a word and walked out of the cafeteria, pushing through the windowed-doors with maybe more force than necessary.  
Leaning against a cool, tiled wall around the hallway corner, she smoothed her face over when she realized she was scowling.  
"Hello?" Penelope questioned, trying to resurrect the phone call.  
"Penelope?" a woman's voice said kindly. A small smile came to the girl's face at the sound of that familiar voice as she momentarily forgot about her newly obtained bad mood.  
"Hi Mom," she said. "Sorry, there's terrible signal in the school's lunch room."  
"I'm not interrupting anything," Maria Porter asked, "am I?"  
Penelope hesitated for a moment, realizing she was going to make the conscious decision to lie to her mother the first time they were speaking to each other in several days since her move to Beacon Hills.  
"No," she said with a secret frown, "not at all."  
"Good, because I feel like you're already becoming a stranger," her mother said, an audible smile in her voice. "I'm just calling to say hello."  
Penelope attempted to sound equally as happy.  
"It's nice to hear your voice," Penelope said.  
"Is something wrong?" Maria Porter inquired, her motherly instinct stirring.  
"No," Penelope replied. _Too fast_, she scolded herself. "Everything's fine," she continued. "And don't worry about me. You should be enjoying your honeymoon with Thomas."  
She was referring to her new step-father.  
"I am," Maria Porter assured her daughter. "Hawaii is beautiful. I wish you could see it."  
"I'll settle for the halls of highschool for now," Penelope joked. "And you've been stuck with me for 16 years. Be glad I'm gone for the time being."  
"I could never do that," her mother told her, a hint of longing behind the light laugh that rang through the cell-phone. Beacon Hill's own bell rang through the halls.  
"I gotta go, Mom," Penelope said. "Class starts soon. Bye."  
"Have a nice day!" her mother called out before the call disconnected.  
"Of course," Penelope sighed in response to her mother's last words, starring at her phone for a moment. "Why wouldn't I be?"


	6. Stray

Penelope slammed her locker shut, contributing to the high volume of noise in the loud hallway, Stiles leaning against his neighboring locker and raising an eyebrow at her.  
"Yes?" she asked, filing her signed permission slip for Mr. Harris' class away into her binder.  
They had just been released from Economics class where her father, Mr. Finstock, was the teacher. That class period was also where she sat in the desk tucked away into the back corner of the room with her eyes averted for the majority of the full hour and stayed silent. It was the best way to avoid interaction with her father in front of all her classmates; it wasn't because she was embarrassed or anything of the sort - Penelope couldn't care less about looking _whatever_ in front of her peers. It was just that as her daddy's little girl, regardless of his usually rough demeanor, Bobby Finstock would naturally behave differently -probably much less barking, she guessed -with Penelope, and it would be weird. So she was simply doing a favor for everyone and avoiding any situation like that.  
"Are you still..." Stiles proceeded slightly awkwardly in his fidgety way, "in a bad mood from earlier?"  
"When would that be?" Penelope asked, giving him a staged look of innocence.  
Stiles held back a smirk as they walked to class in the bustling hallway.  
"Lunch," he replied bluntly.  
"Hmm...Oh!" Penelope said, mocking recollection of a memory she had forgotten with a light tap to her forehead. "You mean when Lydia Martin, the resident queen bee who thinks she's in a high school from some teen chick-flick, nearly chewed my head off when one of her friends, who she apparently has complete ownership over, tried to be nice and invite me to an public social event! No. Why would I be?"  
Stiles scoffed at her sarcasm.  
"Good," he replied, going along with her charade. "Just checking."  
"Thanks," Penelope said nonchalantly, sighing with a shake of her head. "Maybe if I was better at being a teenage girl I would be more offended at what happened. But honestly, I'm still running on the high I got from beating you and the natural good mood that comes with M&M's."  
He rolled his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at her.  
"I'm pretty sure bragging rights expire after the hour of _very temporary_ victory is over."  
"That is _so_ not the way it works!" Penelope argued as they walked into class, waving her free hand in friendly outrage.  
"What's not the way what works?" a boy asked, sitting at the desk beside Penelope. She turned away from Stiles -not noticing the slight scowl he gave the other boy -with a wide smile of on her face. She restrained herself from jumping in surprise as she met Isaac Lahey's awaiting gaze, a gorgeous smirk of amusement at the girl's laughter perfectly mixed in with it, and managed to ease an expression of calm onto her face to replace what she was sure was a goofy, embarrassing grin.  
Penelope cleared her throat, casually averting her eyes to her binder to get a pen as a way to compose herself.  
"I was just explaining to Stiles," she replied, a small smile coming to her lips as she knew she was being a complete actress by pretending to not be screaming internally, "that bragging rights last until the title is won by a new victor."  
"What bragging rights did you earn?" Isaac asked curiously, taking pleasure in the increase he could hear in Penelope's heartbeat when he spoke to her. He had noticed that she hid her smile when she looked at him and was a bit disheartened by it. Though not by much. He had thought her dimples were... cute, maybe. It was just a passing thought. He had been distracted by her light laughter. It had been what intrigued him to talk to her.  
"Well," she said, tucking a curl behind her ear, now slightly abashed to share the story, "it's nothing exactly glorious. Ah, I just proved that I have more skill in catching candy in my mouth than Stiles and I guess he's just a sore loser."  
She glanced over at Stiles next to her, smirking apologetically at him.  
"I already told you; it was just beginner's luck," he said to her, matching Penelope's good-spirited taunting, not acknowledging the boy on the other side of her while she was paying either of them her attention. As soon as she looked away though, down at her belongings on her desk, Isaac met Stiles' disapproving gaze and the two teenage boys shared a moment of challenging, tensioned eye contact, Penelope none the wiser.  
They looked away from each other when Beacon Hills High School's guidance counselor and French teacher, Ms. Morrell, walked into the classroom. "Alright class," she chimed, standing at the head of the room with a smile, "who's ready for some French?"  
"Toujours," Penelope said quietly with a light sigh, turning her attention to the front board where Ms. Morrell was writing the beginnings of today's lesson.  
"Jamais," Isaac said for only the girl he had sat next to to hear. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eyes, allowing a small smirk to grow on his face as Penelope did the same.  
Several minutes later after class had begun, Scott rushed into class, trying to be as quiet as possible.  
"You're late, Scott," Ms. Morrell spoke aloud, a light chiding in her voice.  
"Sorry," he said, taking a seat behind his friend, Stiles. Penelope glanced inconspicuously back at the boy over her shoulder, catching a small smile on his face before she looked away, her eyebrows furrowed lightly with curiosity.

* * *

The hallways cleared out at the end of the school day after the final bell rang, many of Beacon Hills High's teenagers stampeding out the front doors. Penelope stood at her locker in the first corridor in line of sight with the front doors getting her things to leave as well, the last straggler left in the wide hall. She seldom found herself in a rush.  
Another girl, who apparently did not have the same story, came around the corner. She was walking fast, her purse and jewelry bouncing and her heels clicking against the floor. Penelope rolled her eyes, guessing who it could be, and confirmed her assumption when she looked up, glancing at Lydia Martin as she walked down the hall.  
Pulling her messenger bag from her locker and slinging it across her shoulder, Penelope closed her locker slowly, hoping not to fall in stride with Lydia. "Hey," the strawberry-blonde spoke, stopping at Penelope's locker despite her hopes to remain unnoticed, or at least unacknowledged. Lydia had seemed more than glad to comply with the desire before.  
"Hey," Penelope replied, turning around to meet the other girl.  
"About earlier," Lydia continued, as nonchalant and coy as always. "Don't take it personally."  
"How could I?" Penelope said emotionlessly, spreading her palms out in front of her. After a moment of silence, she continued, a look of irritation on her face.  
"Look I -I don't know you. And I don't know your reasons for doing anything you do. The only thing I have to say to you is that you should probably rethink things. I'm honestly not hurt by what you did, but I seriously doubt it's the same case for everyone else that you...behave so unkindly towards." Penelope swallowed, nodding at Lydia, and turned away, walking down the hall.  
"Wait," Lydia said when Penelope was several feet away, an unfamiliar tone present in her voice. Penelope sighed quietly, turning around.  
"I didn't say what I said to start anything," Penelope told her. "I just think it had to be said."  
"I know," Lydia responded, taking a step towards the raven haired girl. "I know I can be... off-putting. And I know that this hasn't been a decent apology, but it was meant to be. I just-"  
A look of alarm came to Penelope's face as she watched as the girl in front of her began to cry. She stood awkwardly in the hallway that was silent besides Lydia's quiet sobbing.  
"It's okay," Penelope consoled her timidly, silently cringing. "I'm not upset with you."  
She slowly reached out her hand, cautiously lowering it down onto the girl's shoulder. When that didn't seem to help her crying, Penelope stepped forward, closing the space between them and lightly hugged the crying girl. She was hugging Lydia Martin. And Lydia Martin hugged her back.  
Neither of them spoke, and neither wanted the other to.  
While the strange, unexpected embrace occurred, Scott and Stiles came around the corner and stopped in their strides, confused looks on their faces. With Lydia's back to them, Penelope met their confused faces with one of her own that said "_I have no idea._"  
'GO AROUND,' Penelope mouthed, throwing them a pleading look. They slowly back away, turning the corner, giving the new girl final looks of absolute bafflement.  
Sniffling, Lydia let go of the new girl who had let her cry on her shoulder and chuckled sheepishly at her.  
"Thank you," she said, pulling a pocket mirror out of her purse to check her make-up.  
"Everyone can use a hug every once in a while," Penelope replied.  
Snapping the mirror shut and putting it away in her purse, Lydia Martin looked up and studied the new girl's face.  
"You're being much nicer to me than I've been to you," she stated. Penelope did nothing but shrug, a knowing look on her face.  
"I suppose it's all I have to offer," she replied.  
"Well," Lydia said, "thanks. I'll be going now."  
"Bye," Penelope said quietly, running over the last few minutes in her head as the high-heeled girl walked away.

* * *

Penelope stood leaning against the railing of the small back porch to her house. She had her headphones in and was looking up at the stars, trying to identify the constellations, and being so focused, nearly jumped out of her skin and stifled a scream when a cat jumped up onto the railing beside her. Pulling out her headphones, she heard the soft cries of the animal that, by its scruffy appearance, she guessed was stray. It looked old, and hungry, she thought, holding out her hand to let the animal sniff it. It seemed friendly enough. When it stepped towards her and rubbed against her hand, Penelope smiled at the creature and gently pet its head.  
"Stay here," she said quietly, pulling open the sliding door that lead to the back porch. A moment later, she returned, peeling open the lid to a can of tuna.  
"You look like you could use a good meal," she told the cat, placing the can in front of it. "No offence."  
The stray cat immediately began eating the tuna gratefully, bringing a smile to Penelope's face as she watched. After the cat was done, it nuzzled against her hand in thanks before hopping off the porch and dissapearing into the woods into the night.  
"Come back again soon," Penelope called after the visitor, looking over her shoulder to make sure her father didn't hear her talking to a cat.  
It strangely seemed like a fortunate day for making new acquaintances.


	7. Venom

Penelope and Allison smirked, side-glancing at each other, holding back laughter as Lydia explained how Prada, her dog, could tell the difference between authentic handbags and counterfeited ones.  
"So she lives up to her name," Penelope agreed generously, teasing lightly. Lydia sighed, obviously disappointed in her friends' lack of appreciation for fashion.  
"_He_," she replied, "certainly does. I didn't raise a mutt."  
"Aw," Penelope pleaded, pouting theatrically. "But mutts deserve love, too."  
Lydia smiled lightly at Penelope. "Bless your heart. That's very... Mother Teresa of you."  
Penelope laughed out loud, raising her eyebrows incredulously at the strawberry blonde.  
"Oh god," Allison said, shaking her head with amusement. "You're going to hell."  
"Well," Lydia said with a shrug, "I hear the Devil wears Prada. If that's true, then I'm not worried."  
The three girls laughed, passing the time before class started by hanging around the front entrance of the school, sitting on one of the benches.  
It was Friday, and everyone was in particularly good spirits.  
"And shame on you for assuming Prada is a girl," Lydia continued. "Just because he's named after a label that is predominantly upheld by women doesn't mean he can't be masculine. And besides, there's nothing wrong with boys caring about how they look."  
"I agree completely," Penelope chimed playfully. "I'm all for manscaping."  
Allison raised an eyebrow suggestively at her. "_Oh_, so that's the type you're into, is it? Clean and well-kept?"  
"The kind of guy a girl goes after says a lot about them, you know," Lydia joined in. "For all we know, you could be into sadistic psychopaths."  
Penelope blushed slightly, scoffing. "For the record, I'm pretty sure I'm _not_ into sadistic psychopaths. And I don't have a type," she replied. "You can't label people like that. That would mean that we're all made of pre-set formulas, or something like that. And I'm a strong believer that everyone has their own unique composition."  
Lydia looked approvingly at this and commented, "I suppose that's true. But one thing you can label is whether or not you want to have a fun night with a guy."  
Penelope blinked daftly at that one. Her lack of experience in that department had her at a loss for words. She was grateful when the first bell rang, saving her from her embarrassment.  
"See you in Chemistry," Allison said with a smile, leaving with Lydia for their lockers. Penelope felt herself blush as she sat on the bench alone for a moment before getting up and leaving as well, glancing around self-consciously. In the sea of students flowing in through the front doors, Isaac watched her curiously with thoughtful eyes. He, for one, could guess at whether one girl was his type, whatever that type may be.

* * *

Today, Chemistry was out of the usual; '_To say the least_,' Penelope thought as she walked away from the classroom.  
The experiment was today, so the regular assigned seats were abandoned. Penelope sat in the back of the room next to a random boy who she didn't really talk to. They exchanged the normal niceties then fell into a comfortable silence as they waited for class to begin.  
She looked up from where she was uninterestedly looking over her classwork when she noticed Scott and Stiles enter the room. She also noticed their intent stares to the back off the classroom, where Isaac and Erica were standing, she learned, following their eyes.  
Suddenly, the two boys dashed to sit next to Lydia, with a massive lack of grace. Glancing back at Isaac and Erica, she saw them smirk deviously and take an empty desk in the middle of the room. As Allison entered the classroom, she sat down at an empty seat across the aisle from Scott, and the two exchanged looks that held a secret, urgent message. All the while, Penelope watched in confusion. And all the while, no one took notice of her, as she wondered what could possibly be happening that would cause such panic in her peers' eyes.  
"Einstein," Mr. Harris began loudly, calling to the attention of the teenagers in the classroom, "once said 'Two things are infinite: the universe and human stupidity.' And I'm not sure about the universe, but I myself have encountered infinite stupidity," he lectured, patting Stiles' shoulder with a certain lack of kindness that Penelope was sure the boy had grown familiar with.  
Lydia smiled coldly at the boy next to her, but Penelope was paying more attention to the boy sitting behind Lydia, his eyes focused on the strawberry blonde girl with a startling focus. Penelope frowned lightly at Isaac, her eyes moving around the faces of the group of the peers whom she had become acquainted to, trying desperately to read the situation. An overwhelming suspicion was clawing at her core, driving her thoughts. But all she could pick up on at the moment was a sense of heightened alertness in the room, like a static electricity passing between the group of teenagers she was watching, from the outside looking in.  
"So, to combat the plague of ignorance in my class," the monotonous teacher continued, "you're going to combine efforts through a round of group experiments. Let's see if two heads are indeed better than one. Or in Mr. Stilinski's case, less than one."  
Penelope cringed at the ice in his words out of compassion for her new friend.  
"Erica," Mr. Harris went on, causing Penelope to roll her eyes as she looked over to the smug blonde. "Take the first station. Start-"  
The man stopped as nearly all the male hands in the classroom shot up into the air, begging to be partnered up with the tease.  
'_Of course,_' Penelope thought, sighing at both Erica as she looked proudly around the room with her ruby lips turned up into a smirk as well as the bitterness in her own mind.  
"I didn't ask for volunteers," Mr. Harris said indignantly. "Put your hormonal little hands down."  
Penelope groaned internally, putting her head down on her binder for a moment.  
"Start with Mr. McCall."  
Penelope pulled her head up and furrowed her eyebrows again she noticed Scott look down broodingly while the blonde glared venomously at the boy. She let out a small huff as she continued to fall into an increasingly deep chasm of confusion and suspicion.

The class went onto to become an intense game of musical chairs, Penelope noted with exasperation. Her jaw nearly dropped as she saw Erica move her hand up Scott's thigh, pulling a scowl onto the boy's face. Sitting behind the pair, watching as well, Allison's face was a cool masked of forced calm. For a reason inaudible to Penelope, Erica suddenly clutched onto Scott's neck, the pair growling at each other. This time, Penelope's jaw actually did drop as she thought she saw the girl's eyes glow yellow for brief moment.  
_'High school lighting isn't anyone's friend,'_ she chided herself, quickly dismissing the idea, turning her attention to the experiment in front of her.  
The ding of a bell pulled her attention back into reality as Mr. Harris ordered the class to switch stations. Again, several of her new acquaintances raced to occupy the seat beside Lydia, Scott being the victor. He and Stiles nodded at each other, causing Penelope to scoff.  
How ridiculous was she being? Was this all really just a petty competition for some girl, or was there actually something of importance going on? Despite her logic telling her to stop paying attention to the questionable matter, Penelope could not ignore the nagging feeling in her gut. And so, she continued to watch.  
After a series of taunting facial expressions and sharply aimed words that she could not hear being passed between Isaac and Stiles, the bell rang again, calling for another switch.  
Penelope noted with a slight pang of irritation, maybe even jealousy -though she ignored the small voice in the back of her mind -that Isaac slid into the seat beside Lydia, smiling charmingly at her. The girl glanced over her shoulder to Allison, a flash of worry quickly passing over her face, but not quick enough that Penelope didn't see it.  
Then Penelope jumped in her seat slightly when Allison suddenly did the same, her face and body tensing up for a moment. She furrowed her eyebrows for the dozenth time, this time is growing concern.  
"If you've catalyzed the reaction correctly," Mr. Harris' voice boomed to the classroom, "you should now be looking at a crystal."  
Penelope glanced down at the station where she had been sitting all class, observing without interest that she had, in fact, catalyzed the reaction correctly. Some of her classmates were not as fortunate. Then Mr. Harris announced that the crystals were edible.  
Lydia gingerly took the crystal that Isaac offered her between her finger tips and was about to eat it, before Scott jumped up from his seat and urgently called her name, fear in his voice. Now Penelope wasn't the only one watching.  
"_What_?" Lydia demanded, looking impatiently at Scott. She rolled her eyes, taking a crunchy bite out of the candy crystal. "It's just sugar."  
Penelope didn't know what he had expected to happen, but she now followed his eyes, filled with an alarming fury, out the window to the parking lot of the school.  
In the distance, at the edge of the pavement where the forest began to grow, a dark figure that she could not make out stood, watching the classroom. She held back a gasp as she thought it turned its head and met her stare.

She blended into the crowd of students that left the room as the bizarre class period was dismissed, no one paying her any attention. She stood, looking down the hallway, and saw Scott, Stiles, and Allison rush into an empty closet.  
Penelope took a deep breath, a look of unease on her face, and left.

* * *

That lunch, Penelope did not sit down at a table with the people whom she had been falling into acquaintanceship with. Instead, she found an empty spot in a window seat of a faceless hallway in the large high school. With her headphones in, silently looking around the empty hallway as she ate her food, it felt strangely still, even though she knew there was a whole world of commotion just around the corner.  
She didn't know why she had suddenly stopped at the doors to the cafeteria, not entering, and instead turned away after a flutter of a heartbeat.  
Her eyes had found them after a moment -Scott, Stiles, Allison, Erica, and Isaac -all sitting together, challenging looks on their faces as they spoke words that Penelope could not hear from across the room. But they were words that held passion, she could see clearly.  
She felt excluded, Penelope realized. That's why she didn't enter the cafeteria. This was obviously something that she wasn't part of, something from before she had arrived at Beacon Hills High.  
'_You've been here a week,_' she told herself. '_Don't stick your nose in things where you're not welcome.'  
_And that was it, she further realized. She wasn't welcome in whatever this was. She was a background character.  
Arriving at the end of her train of thought, a station well worn, Penelope looked out the window, and told herself to stop being so surprised -and maybe even hurt- by something that was hardly new.


End file.
